Moments
by crystal-rose19
Summary: These are a few short stories I had posted a while back on LiveJournal. Check the rating before you proceed, though the first one is safe for all ages.
1. Clutter

A/N: All of these were submitted to a LiveJournal forum a very long time ago, I just never got around to posting them here. They get pretty racy, but this first one is tame. As usual, I own nothing.

Clutter

Mary winced as her car screeched to a stop in front of her partner's house. He hadn't sounded worried on the phone, but it was very rare for Marshall to need her help with anything. There was no response when she knocked, but she heard music, so she let herself in.

"Marshall?" He popped his head in from the living room and smiled.

"I'm here."

"What the Hell is going on here? You said you needed help." She walked into the living room and nearly tripped over a stack of science magazines. The room was littered with stacks of books and magazines, random hobbies that Marshall had picked up over the years.

"I do need help."

"If you called me here at 8:30 at night to help you clean so help me I'll -"

"Relax. Wanna dance?" He held out his hand for hers and she just stared at it.

"Have you lost your mind? Why did you call me?" His hand was still hanging in midair.

"I need a partner. My lessons are going well, but there's only so much I can do alone. It's completely different dancing with someone."

"Call Stan. You two seemed pretty good together."

"C'mon Mar." He wiggled the fingers of his outstretched hand.

"I'm a terrible dancer Marshall."

"That's what lessons are for." He finally reached down, grabbed her hand and pulled her against him. "As a favor?" She rolled her eyes.

"Fine. But you owe me."

"Don't I always?" He had already begun moving her to the music. Their knees bumped together and she stepped on his toes more than once. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Just close your eyes and let me lead." She closed her eyes, but every muscle in her body was tense. Mary Shannon was not the kind of woman to let someone else lead. He whirled her around the room and having her eyes closed was only making her dizzy. She thought she was starting to get the hang of it. She hadn't stepped on his feet for a while and she smiled slightly.

"I see that smile." She laughed.

"I refuse to admit to having fun of any kind."

"I'll just have to try harder then." He began to speed the dance up and she pulled back slightly so she wouldn't step on his feet again, but stepped into one of the stacks of books instead. The fall was a blur, but she was conscious of Marshall falling on her. The man might be skinny, but he had muscle. They ended up on the floor, legs tangled, with her head next to and old Singer sewing machine. He propped himself up with his elbows on either side of her arms.

"Having fun yet?" He was smiling.

"Is that a sewing machine Marshall?"

"Probably."

"Could you let me up?"

"Probably." She snorted. "But you have to admit you had fun first."

"Oh no way. You dragged me away from a good book, you dragged me around your cluttered living room, and then you topple the both of us into a heap on your floor and won't let me up. That's not my idea of fun."

"Then why are you smiling."

"I'm not smiling." She was, though. A wide smile that was threatening to turn into a laugh.

"You're right."

"No surprise there."

"I should've called Stan."

"Okay, fun's over, Big Boy. Get off." He lifted an eyebrow at the 'Big Boy comment and looked around, considering.

"I don't know. I seem to have lost the use of my lower body."

"The ladies will be so disappointed." He was chuckling, and the fingers of his right hand had begun to trace along her collarbone. He didn't seem to notice. She shifted slightly but realized her mistake when his hips pressed hers into the carpet. She sighed and tried not to concentrate on the feeling of his fingers on her skin.

"Why did you call me?"

"I told you, I needed someone to practice with."

"There's a dozen clubs in town, you could have found a girl in any one of them to be your dance partner." He looked her in the eyes, still tracing his fingers along her neck.

"But you're my partner." She moved her hands to his waist and smiled again.

"Okay, and I might, possibly, have had a little fun. But don't let it go to your head." His smile was like Christmas morning and when he kissed her it wasn't elegant or full of the usual passion, but it warmed her to her toes. They broke apart, smiling.

"Okay, get off me now. You're no lightweight." His expression was exaggerated hurt.

"Are you calling me fat?"

"Yes, now get off." He laughed and helped her up.


	2. Not Your Lover

Not My Lover

He couldn't explain the irrational anger that came over him. It was so simple, a few words from the waitress, but he couldn't stop thinking about her reaction, or lack thereof. The more he thought about it the angrier he got. When they first became partners they would have to correct people all day long who assumed they were lovers. No one believed two attractive adults of opposite sexes could just work together and be friends. But somewhere along the line she had stopped. He, taking his cues from her as always, did as well.

He rationalized that it didn't matter what they denied because people would believe whatever they wanted. Why waste his breath? Recently, however, it had begun to bother him increasingly. Not the lack of response, exactly, but the way his heart raced to grasp at that tenuous thread of hope that it evoked. They paid the bill and headed back to his car. She was leading, as always, but he had the keys this time. He was just angry enough to slow his steps and make her wait impatiently, pulling at the door handle, while he made his way to the car. Confrontation was rarely the best idea (though usually unavoidable) when it came to Mary, but his judgment where she was concerned was getting less and less sound with each passing day. So instead of starting the car when they got in, he just stared at the keys in his hand.

"Marshall? We gonna spend the night in the parking lot? Because I'm not -"

"We're not lovers."

"Excuse me?"

"You're not my lover, Mary." He finally looked at her, her expression unreadable except for the hint of anger that always seemed to cloud it lately.

"Thanks for clearing that up, Slim, because I wasn't aware." The anger was more prominent now. She shifted away from him in her seat and crossed her arms in front of her chest. He drove in silence to her house and parked on the curb. As she uncrossed her arms to reach for the door he laid his hand on hers.

"Look, Mar, I didn't mean -"

"Don't worry about it." She cut him off, waving off his hand. "You're right. It's just easier sometimes not to argue." He gave her an incredulous look and she chuckled. "I know, I know." She looked at her house and then, slyly, back at him. "Besides, Marshall, if we were lovers you'd at least have the decency to walk me to the door."

He rolled his eyes but felt his anger melting away. Walking around to her side of the door he opened it with a grand, sweeping gesture. He led her to her door, silently cursing himself for not having the courage to stick with his convictions. For not being able to sustain his anger.

When they reached her door she turned and leaned against it, looking up at him through her lashes. It looked like they were still playing this game. If they were then he was damn well going to get something out of it. He leaned his face closer to her and lowered his voice.

"If we were lovers then I would kiss you goodnight right now." She raised an eyebrow and lifted her chin, probably in defiance, but he took it as an invitation. His aim was a little off and the sound she made was more surprise than desire, but the result was the same. When she opened her mouth to him she still tasted like the red wine she had at dinner and he pressed her harder against the door, hands on her hips. They pulled apart, too soon for his taste, breathless. Mary still had hold of his lapels.

"You know, Marshall, if we really were lovers then it wouldn't be goodnight." He leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. Forgetting that she technically had a boyfriend, and that her mother and her sister were probably waiting inside for her to get home, his hand reached for the door handle. The temptation was so great he could barely breathe. She had his heart in a vice grip and didn't even know it. He was an intelligent man and knew right from wrong but when it came to her the line had blurred long ago. Their breathing had evened out and he dropped his hands to his sides.

"But we're not lovers, Mary." She nodded, his forehead still against hers.

"Goodnight, Marshall."

"Goodnight." The walk back to his car took forever and he told himself too many times not to look back. In the end though it was inevitable. He looked toward the door, but she was already inside.


	3. Just Your Imagination

A/N: Here's where the rating comes in boys and girls, you have been warned.

Just Your Imagination

There was nothing special about today but she'd had the feeling that she was being watched all morning. By lunchtime she was sure it was him, and now mid-afternoon she could barely concentrate on anything else. His stare was physical, tracing heat down her spine and sending it spiraling through her stomach and further still. She'd begun taking completely unnecessary trips around the office to test her theory. It took less than five minutes. She went into Stan's office and could feel Marshall looking through the glass.

"Stan, you gotta make him stop."

"Who? What?"

"Marshall. He keeps looking at me." Stan sat forward in his seat.

"Let me get this straight. You want me to tell Marshall to stop looking at you."

"Yes. That's exactly what I want." They stared at each other for a moment, Mary taping her foot.

"Did he push you off the swings too? Maybe call you names? Really, sometimes I wonder how old you two are. He's not staring at you Mary, it's your imagination. Now please leave me alone I'm busy. Unless you actually have business pertinent to WITSEC?" Mary frowned.

"You know, Stan, you're going to regret it when Marshall finally goes off the deep end and murders me."

"Honestly, I don't think I'd blame him." Mary stormed out of the office and nearly ran headfirst into Marshall outside out the door. He placed his hand under her elbow to steady her but she jerked her arm away quickly with a suspicious look.

"Careful." His voice was lower than usual, deeper as well.

"Or what?" Marshall just smiled and moved past her.

Ten minutes later they were both back at their desks and Mary was doing her best to ignore the man to her left. Unfortunately it was more impossible than ever. The heat in the room was ratcheting up by the minute. She needed some fresh air. She went out to the balcony, but instead of continuing around to the eating area she stayed it the corner by the doors. It was impossible to see from the office so she didn't have to worry about him staring at her through the glass. She closed her eyes, leaned over the edge, and tried to clear her head.

She heard the door open and knew it was him. She whirled around, ready to give him a piece of her mind but he was there before she opened her mouth. His hands cupped her face, one leg placed between hers, and she couldn't move. Physically she could have gotten away, but her arms settled themselves on his waist instead.

He kissed her forcefully, opening her mouth to him. She knew she should stop him, there were a million reasons to, but one of his hands had moved down to her breast and was fondling her over her blouse. Combined with the friction of his thigh between her legs she could feel the heat coiling in her stomach. His mouth left hers and traveled down her neck to her collarbone and back up. He found the spot behind her ear that drove her crazy and she could feel her orgasm building, fueled by the attention and the possibility of being caught. He switched his attention to the other breast and moved the other hand down her stomach to flick open the button and unzip her pants. Her hands wrapped around his shoulder blades and she opened her stance to give him better access. He curved two fingers inside of her and used his thumb to circle her clit. Covering her mouth with his, he swallowed her moans. It was over surprisingly quickly and her head fell backwards, eyes closed. She took a moment then reached a hand down to grasp him but it was quickly intercepted. Startled, she opened her eyes, but his mouth was at her ear.

"Later." She pulled back slightly and raised an eyebrow. He smiled and pulled his hand from her pants, and her breath caught in her throat when he began to lick his fingers. Slowly, still looking her in the eye, it was nearly the hottest thing she'd ever seen. He did up her pants and kissed her once more, still tasting of her, before leaving the balcony for the, hopefully, empty bathroom. She waited a few minutes before going to the women's room to clean up. She went back to her desk, shooting a glance in the direction of Stan's office. They hadn't been missed. She pulled out another stack of paperwork, contemplating later. She could still feel his eyes on her, but she didn't mind anymore.


End file.
